


The Seed of a Forest

by Luzula



Category: Sleeping Beauty - Fandom
Genre: Fairy Tales, Gen, Podfic Available, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzula/pseuds/Luzula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I would never forgive the humans for what they had done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seed of a Forest

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Svenska available: [Skogens hjärta](https://archiveofourown.org/works/117084) by [Luzula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzula/pseuds/Luzula)



> This is a retelling from the evil fairy's POV. Thank you kindly to [](http://sionnain.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**sionnain**](http://sionnain.dreamwidth.org/) for beta-reading.

In the beginning, as far back as we could remember, there was forest.

There had been no need to think of it as unbroken forest then, because there was nothing outside the forest that we knew of. There were open places--glades where the sun reached the forest floor, formed where some giant oak had fallen, and scraggly swamps by the river. But these were surrounded and defined by the forest and were not something separate from it.

We, the fair folk, the fey, had no need to name ourselves, either. Those names were given to us by those who came after.

They came with cold hard iron, fashioned into axes and swords. We laughed at first, because they seemed pitiful to us--they only lived for a few short score of years, and then died old and wrinkled, or young and bleeding. They died all the time, but they bred like mice. There were so many of them.

They cut down the trees, swarming over them and cutting off the branches. They built houses of them, and burned them for warmth, and their hunger to cut down more trees seemed insatiable. We retreated into the forest. It was not in our nature to take up arms against them; we would simply go elsewhere.

But what had been one unbroken forest became, over time, cut into fragments. The roads of the invaders spread their tendrils ever further into the forest, and the land where they had cut the trees was laid under their iron plows. The land was tamed and subdued, until with the passing of many years there were only small islands of forest left, separated by farms and fields.

We could not have imagined it, if we had not seen it happen.

Many of us became tame in our turn, then, and went to live in the interstices of the invaders' lives. We would be content with a hawthorn thicket in the edge of a field, or a orchard with fruit trees that were carefully pruned and tended.

But I wasn't content. I would never forget the forest, and how it been destroyed.

I lived in a king's wood, although I did not particularly care who owned it (as though trees could be owned). He liked to hunt there, and so kept the wood from being cut down to make way for more farms and fields. I do not call it a forest, for a forest is nothing like the managed land of the hunting wood.

The king had his castle beside the wood. It was a huge structure, made not of wood but of stone, and surrounded by many houses, where he kept horses and servants and all manner of other human things. I shuddered to think of living in that cold stone structure, shut off from the sky and all the life of the land.

There was a queen living with the king in his castle, and she was growing heavy with child. We fair folk were invited to the christening (a custom the humans have, splashing water on their newborns), no doubt in the hope we would have gifts for the child. I wasn't invited specifically, but it was still an invitation, and I saw my chance. There are certain times that are propitious for the working of magic, and this is one of them. The humans have their ways of keeping us from their houses, but when we are invited--well. There's power in an invitation.

The other fey who attended the christening looked at me with some dismay when I appeared. They were among those who lived in peace with the humans, and no doubt they thought I would bring some disarray to the ceremony. Little did they know.

The baby was bundled in her mother's arms. She was such a tiny little thing, so mortal and fragile. I watched her scrunched-up red face in fascination. In less than a hundred years, she would grow and bloom, and then wither and die. Sooner, if I had my way.

The others gave such fair gifts as are in our power to give--of beauty, charm, and musical talent. Then I stepped forward. I foretold that in her eighteenth year, she would prick her finger on a wooden spindle and die. Her parents' faces grew white with fear, and a murmur of dismay went through the gathered crowd.

But I had mistimed my curse. The last of the fey stepped forward, and said that she would not die, only sleep for a hundred years.

Well, no matter. The most important part I had spoken only in the bitter depths of my heart. _In her eighteenth year, the castle will be consumed by trees. They will drive away the humans as we were once driven away._ It had pleased me to think the tree roots would be nourished by the body of the princess, but it didn't matter. The trees would grow just the same.

I went back to my little wood, and the months passed as days do to humans. There came a time when the blackbird's song reminded me that spring was nigh again, and I remembered that this was the princess' eighteenth year.

I fashioned a spindle from the heartwood of a fallen oak. The invaders were forever making things of their own from the wood of trees, and it seemed a fitting symmetry that such a thing should be their undoing.

I disguised myself as a withered old woman and entered the castle. I found the princess in the tame and ordered garden. She was truly lovely, I had to admit. She had that vitality which humans sometimes possess in their brief bloom, and she was like a strong young sapling, like an ash reaching for the sky.

For a moment I hesitated. Then I hardened my heart, thinking of the forest.

She reached in curiosity for the spindle, never having seen such a thing before (foolish king, to think he could circumvent a curse by simply keeping her from spindles). She pricked her finger, and a drop of red blood fell to the ground. She cried out and put her finger in her mouth, but it was too late--the thing was done.

The princess fell to the ground by the bush where she had been picking roses. The drop of blood had fallen by the roots of the bush, and so the roses were the first to grow. They grew up along the walls of the castle, many years of growth in only moments. The branches reached far and grew thick and sturdy, and the thorns sharp and forbidding. And all over the bush, the blood-red roses blossomed.

It spread into the garden, and the manicured bushes stretched and shrugged off their artificial shapes, growing wayward and wild. I walked through the garden that was now the seed of a forest, and ran my hands over the leaves, urging them to grow.

The rest of the inhabitants of the castle had fallen asleep where they lay, caught up in the spell, and the trees grew around them. I saw the first signs of the castle's decay as roots delved into the mortar between the stones, coaxing it loose and forcing the stones apart. I rejoiced that the castle would fall.

The forest spread farther from the castle, and always the thorny bushes went first, the roses and hawthorns and brambles. Humans tried to get in, no doubt, but they didn't get far. The thorns would pierce their skin and rip their clothes to pieces, and a gloom would fall over their minds, so that they would go in circles and find themselves again at the forest's edge.

Native trees grew in the protection of the thorn bushes: oak and ash, beech and elm and lime. They grew wild and strong, and one by one, my people found their way there. Not all of them, of course, but some: the malcontents and those who could not forget. Other forest creatures came, as well, such as stags and hares and the woodpeckers that nest in hollow trees. When I looked close, I would see the tiny creatures of the forest, those who dwell in the hearts of the acorn nuts or make spiral patterns in the leaves.

Years passed, and I was content to watch the trees grow and the castle slowly crumble. I even grew quite fond of the princess' sleeping form. The mice nested in her hair, and the vines crept over her limbs, but her cheeks were as rosy as before, and her chest rose and fell with every breath. She was fair and didn't age, and that made almost like one of us, even if she never spoke.

One morning in spring, there was a change. I had lost count of the years, but perhaps a century had already passed. The trees whispered amongst themselves of something new, and I followed where they led me to the edge of the forest. I saw a young human, sword drawn, no doubt to cut through the brambles and thorns. But there was no need. The branches bent away, leaving a clear path into the green, dimly lit forest. The path led to the princess, as it was meant to do. I followed, curious. I did not intend to be seen, and so I was not.

The human sheathed the sword and knelt by her body for a long moment, then stroked her cheek. The hand was drawn back in surprise at the warmth of her skin. Then the young human bent down and kissed her lips.

She sat up, shaking off her sleep. Her clothing was long decayed, and fell from her body, leaving her nude. Her people found such things unseemly, I knew. On a whim, I murmured under my breath, and the roses twined about her, covering her with a gown of green leaves and blood-red flowers. But there were no thorns--I thought she'd had enough of that.

They walked toward the forest edge. I followed them, and bid the princess farewell, although she didn't see me. They mounted on a horse and rode away, which was just as well--I had no wish to see her grow old and die.

The other sleepers had woken also, and made their way out, slow and confused. I had no particular interest in them, and I didn't interfere when they left.

Many years had passed since I had last been at the forest edge, and I shaded my eyes and looked around. With a pang, I saw that those parts of the hunting wood that were outside the reach of my spell were gone, chopped down now that they were not protected by the king. That had been my doing, and I grieved over the old oaks that had died. They were replaced by farms, the rich black earth laid bare under the sky.

I had no wish to see any more of the outside world, and retreated into the forest. Now that the princess was gone, the way in was barred for humans, and would so remain.

They would never disturb this forest again.


End file.
